Sunday, 19 December 2010

A postcard from Christmas Island

Not waving but drowning- a poem for the refugee children- the victims

We fell with our fearTo the seaAnd the waters reformedOver our breakageAs a body wholly reformedAnd we were coveredWith structures of wreckageWashed under the swirls of the gullsOn the seaThat are not our own gullsThough we harboured the soundOf the cry in their songsAnd tried for the glide of their wings;The sea does not askIf we want to beOnce more in the seaFor it seems just as weWere under the skySo it must be in the seaThat our spirits may riseThrough the squawksAnd the glidesIn the quest for the promised above.______gw2010